


Claire Dearing: Raptor Wrangler

by OneSmartChicken



Series: Claire Dearing: Raptor Wrangler and the adventures therein [1]
Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character/Genderswap, Alternate Universe - Magic, Author has a potty mouth, Everyone has magic, F/M, I don't know how the fuck to tag this, I-rex redemption, Multi, threesomes but without the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7693837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSmartChicken/pseuds/OneSmartChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled "Genius," "Talented," and "Off the Charts," for reasons you will probably notice.<br/>In which I swap Claire and Owen, redeem the I-rex, and also give everyone some magic, because no one can stop me. I "baby" Claire because I fucking can. The day someone says "Chicken no" is the day someone steps the fuck up and betas for me. Claire/Owen/Barry is vague in that nobody has sex but they're very romantic tbh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claire Dearing: Raptor Wrangler

**Author's Note:**

> My motto for this fic is BARRY AND CLAIRE DESERVED BETTER. And so did Indy, for that matter. You know you fucked up a monster movie when, when the monster dies, a significant amount of the audience goes, "aaw, poor baby."  
> Why does this exist other than that though? Because I had to listen to my uncle's sexist bitching when I first saw this movie, and I've basically wanted to fight someone ever since. SAY SOMETHING ABOUT WOMEN I FUCKING DARE YOU I'LL WRITE A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE FIC YOU'LL NEVER SEE JUST WATCH. Shut up.  
> Fun fact: I totally forgot about the boys while writing this. I wrote all of it in about three hours, starting around one in the morning and ending at four, not counting proofing, etc. So this is destined for a sequel in which Owen's nephews hero-worship Claire and Barry, because they deserve it. There'll also be a peek at the life and times of the raptor show, Claire's family, more about Barry in general, and maybe someone will kiss. Who knows, the possibilities are endless.  
> Another fun fact: Barry doesn't have a last fucking name. You know who has a last name? Literally everyone else. Or like, most other else. Characters much more background than him. So I arbitrarily gave Barry a last name via googling "French surnames" and clicking the first result. Because I research good. The name means knight. I'm a pretty basic person.

Claire groaned, laying back in her trailer, too lazy to even bother with the tv. Today had been...less than great.

There was the usual Hoskins sightings which were terrible for her blood pressure, and, on a good day, that was enough to leave her wanting to take a sledgehammer to something. Today was not a good day.

An intern fell in the raptor pit, surviving the fall because he's got rubber bones or some shit, which is bad enough, but _then_ she was too riled up by Hoskins to convince the girls that murder was not on the agenda for the day. Well, she technically won in the end, but it felt less like winning and more like sticking her fingers in her ears and going "Lalalalala!" while running away. Not the most satisfying victory.

She could still hear Delta whining, sounding to Claire more like a toddler denied a cookie than the snarls that she knew others heard. Her talent was funny like that.

"But _Mom,"_ Charlie protested in her memory, all but stomping her feet.

"Just the worm," Blue tried to bargain, determination writ on her strangely expressive face. She was the oldest of the girls, but still just a teenager, really. If Blue was human, she'd probably barely have a driver's license, and mostly use it to alternately avoid her sisters, and ferry them around while pretending to hate them, loving every second of it. "We won't hurt the hatchling."

"We weren't gonna anyway," Echo grumbled, still hidden. Disappointment hung heavily in her tone. Knowing Echo, she had probably been biding her time, planning to jump out and scare the wits out of the kid. What few wits he evidently had.

"Yeah, we were just teasing!" Charlie insisted, tail up. She was the most visibly playful, looking more like a puppy with a ball than an apex predator deprived of a human chewtoy. Blue growled at them all, a nonverbal demand for them to shut up, like maybe she had a chance at talking Mom into doing the thing.

"The one who annoys you," Blue persisted, flexing in place. She coughed an eager call, leaning forward in faux-threat. Barry was yelling something in French, probably cussing out Hoskins. Claire had her hands up, braced in her 'taming the monsters' pose. It looked good enough from the outside, according to Barry, but it felt damn stupid. Fucking Hoskins. This was all his fault. "We won't even eat him. Just make him shush-shush." She made the noise for quiet, as if Claire needed an example.

Above them, people were whispering and yelling frantically. Hoskins was telling his men not to shoot, which she'd appreciate if he wasn't just trying to protect the _assets_ he wanted. Someone hissed something about _that crazy raptor chick._ Well. Fair enough.

If she was watching that scene and only hearing the girls' admittedly impressive vocalizations, it'd probably be pretty fucking alarming. But hey, wasn't her fault none of the people watching were Claire Dearing, animal linguist.

On Claire's talent registration, she was listed as "good with animals," with an addendum that she was best with animals she'd bonded with--translation, ones she'd raised, or near-as. Similarly, on her pa's registration, he was "skilled with automobiles." He ran a popular mechanic shop and could supposedly detect what was wrong with a car just by sticking his head under the hood. And then there was her ma.

Her ma's said "linguistic avian expert; genius level." Growing up, Claire saw her ma about six months out of every year, and that was just a talent with _birds,_ even if it was a genius one. On the other hand, she saw her pa every day, growing up. No one knew her pa could tell a car's problem at a glance, and fix it in ten minutes _with_ necessary tools and replacement parts; he'd need an hour with nothing but his bare hands. They called that sort of thing _off the charts._ Or they did when they knew about it.

Claire learned from her parents, and as far as the Talent Registry was concerned, she was just a little better at interpreting animal body language and vocalizations. Truth was, it wasn't much more useful than all that. She might be able to hear the words, to understand and be understood, but she couldn't always do something with that. Even when the animals bothered listening to her, that didn't mean they cared what she had to say.

Take, for example, Missy. See, Claire had a cat, growing up. Her name was Missy. That cat did everything Claire asked of it, no matter how ridiculous, and loved it, because she loved Claire. As far as Missy was concerned, Claire was her kitten and her favorite anything, and Missy would have given Claire the _world_. But most cats barely gave her the time of day, unless she came with bribes, same as any other animal-talented person. Even then, sometimes they'd laugh at her, if her request didn't suit them. She could ask a tiger not to eat a goat until she was blue in the face, but that goat was getting eaten, unless she came up with a really good reason for it not to die, as well as a replacement meal. It'd be easier to just let the goat get eaten, or not give the tiger the goat in the first place.

That metaphor got out of hand, but the point stood.

She went to school for all sorts of animal studies, but in the Navy, she didn't even work _near_ animals. Sometimes she'd go months without so much as exchanging hellos with the local wildlife, all of them too spooked by her compatriots to get within speaking distance, and uninterested besides. Honestly, it had been nice, not counting all the not-nice stuff that came with being in the Navy. It was just, animals were rarely very interesting, honestly, and her talent made them _loud._ Or at least, they certainly seemed loud, especially when she was younger. And anyway, it was fun to live outside her predestined track for a while, away from the animals programmed into her life. Hell, half the people who knew her thought her talent was _militant_. That was a fun time; a good, proper rebellion from life.

Now, retiring--chased home by nightmares and scars, missing a cat she'd never see again--that had been hard.

Joining the Jurassic World team had been harder. She'd never have done it, except her sister--Doctor Sophie Dearing, "superb biochemist, genius level," the only one of five siblings to be honest in her registration--knew just what strings to pull. It was pathetically easy, really, once Sophie decided Claire was damn well joining her at the park.

She sent Claire a picture of six eggs, surrounded in sterile white. "Do you really want these squints to raise these?" her text taunted. Claire was on a plane a week later. Sophie was good, and honestly, how could Claire hold out against _velociraptors_? She didn't really want to work at a glorified zoo, but by golly, she wanted some velociraptors. Her inner child would never have forgiven her if she didn't go.

She made it just in time to sit through the hatching, heart breaking with every passing minute.

Five of six died on the first day. Two had underdeveloped lungs, and the rest just--couldn't. One didn't even hatch, and when Claire peeled the shell open two days later (just in case it needed a little more time), it hadn't even matured past its first incubation week.

The sixth, a little grey thing who couldn't open its eyes, died on its third day, unable to make the transition to food, no matter how simple.

All things she'd seen in chickens, on the farm her parents kept, but a whole clutch? It wasn't unheard of, but it was _awful_.

Claire cried all over Sophie, then went howling after the scientists to not be _stupid._ She demanded a few changes to the incubation equipment, after a quick call to her ma who insisted she give them her number. Mostly she just yelled at the poor scientists until Sophie dragged her away.

It took a little while, but they made new eggs, ones they claimed were "foolproof." Practically guaranteed survival.

They were rotten within a week.

Claire hunted down the head scientist, and made him assign Sophie to her raptors. It was the first time she heard someone call her _crazy raptor lady._

In the next clutch, there were three very different eggs, though their differences weren't immediately apparent without looking at the charts. The first one hatched early, so early that the ultra-sensitive monitors sent Claire running for the incubator in the middle of rush hour, abandoning the work she was doing in the petting zoo to pass the time awaiting her dinosaurs. She made it in time, of course; she wasn't far in the first place, especially once she hijacked a cart, and eggs were pretty slow anyways.

She carefully cupped the egg in her hands, so much bigger than a chicken egg, more like an ostrich maybe, though she'd never held an ostrich egg either. Her face was right up close as the baby broke out, tearing through the leathery shell with claws and egg teeth. A perfect sapphire tumbled out of the egg and into her hands. She was already wordlessly demanding food before she was even out of the shell, and Claire was in love.

She stretched on the rec room couch, ignoring a few shocked staff on break, laid the baby on her chest, and fed her a "baby gruel" she'd designed herself way back before the second clutch was even fabricated. They waited for the other two eggs, the little blue greedily gnawing on the big eye dropper Claire was using to feed her the semi-liquid. The sensor alarm was silent though, and as the little one fell asleep, tucked into Claire's cleavage, she went cautiously back to the incubator, heart in her throat.

With steady hands, she delicately lifted the eggs, checking each individually with the even more sensitive monitors not attached to the best. Though unmoving, there was an undeniable heartbeat still fluttering in each one. Claire managed to put the eggs back and sit down before she started crying, overwhelmed by stress and relief in equal measure--though she was careful not to wake the baby, of course.

Sophie found her still snuffling away on the horrid little metal chair by the incubator. There'd have been a whole hoard of people there already, except Claire had requested a separate mini room for the potentially fragile eggs, and that she and the head scientist be the only one alerted of the hatching, for the same reason.

"Oh Claire, sweetie," Sophie sighed, beelining for her. Even if she was a supposedly cold scientist, Sophie was sweeter than anything, especially with her family, and the conclusion she'd drawn made sense.

Claire laughed, muffling the rusty croak hastily, lest she disturb her sapphire. She managed to smile up at her sister, genuine even if her face was all red and puffy with crying. She lifted her chin, uncurling a little, until Sophie could _see_.

Sophie managed a silent squeal, though it visibly took a lot of effort to contain her excitement. The squeal was more "baby!" than professional pride, even though Claire intended to give her _all_ the credit for this success. She crouched down to stare at the little raptor in wide-eyed wonder, resisting the urge to touch; they didn't know enough about the raptors yet, so Claire was the only one with touching privileges. Another request of Claire's, though she'd mostly intended it just to keep the rabble away. It was probably perfectly safe for Sophie to touch, but Claire didn't say anything; she selfishly didn't want to share. At least not yet.

"Oh she's beautiful, Claire," Sophie let out a very different sigh, marveling over the little gem. "Have you named her yet?"

And she hadn't, not really, except, "Blue," Claire blurted like it'd just been sitting on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be set free. She'd been thinking Sapphire, but--she liked Blue. It was easier to say, and it sounded less pretentious, even if the baby definitely deserved pretentious. Sophie grinned teasingly, eyeing the hatchling's vibrant pattern, her obvious coloration. So maybe Blue wasn't terribly _creative_ , but whatever. Claire was never an artist.

"Blue, huh? Hi Blue. You're gonna make your mommy crazy, aren't you?" Sophie beamed at the prospect. She gave Claire's hair a pat as she stood, stretching a crick out of her spine. "Well go on home then, these two were predicted to be slower anyway. Who knows how long you'll have with just the two of you?"

Turned out, Claire had an entire _month_ alone with Blue. She was their test baby, which meant Claire had free reign. Mostly that meant that, wherever Claire went, Blue went, riding along in a messenger bag when she outgrew pockets, which only took a few days. Claire was starting to worry about Blue's sisters, (ha, starting; like she hadn't been worried for the _entire_ incubation) when the monitors finally summoned her again, this time in the middle of the night, when even the most avid researcher was off-site.

The hatching was a resounding success, and Claire stuck with her naming theme by following the radio alphabet. She proclaimed herself Alpha, and pretended she hadn't named Blue purely for her coloration. Everyone but Sophie even seemed to believe her. Although, that didn't explain her skipping C. Delta just wasn't a Charlie sort of girl though, and technically she hatched before Echo.

Delta and Echo were healthy, curious little things, and after a week of jealousy and suspicion, Blue adored them just as much as Claire did, even deigning to share her messenger bag with them. They looked rather ridiculous, all piled together in the bag, always securely slung around Claire's neck and shoulder. Mostly they liked to stay in the bag, but sometimes they'd see something _fascinating_ and suddenly she had to round up her raptor babies, occasionally to the panic of bystanders. It didn't make sense to her, but Sophie said she had "Mommy goggles."

They were her terrible trio, until two weeks after the pair's hatching, when the lab had a surprise for her. Apparently, after determining the health of the clutch, they had engineered one more, just days before Blue had hatched, with a similar DNA pattern to Blue herself. Charlie filled the hole in their little family, fitting like their little baby puzzle piece.

For their--or really, for _Charlie's_ first year, the four raptors lived with Claire in her trailer, which became consistently more dilapidated even as she built on it. She was stubbornly determined to make it a house, even with four little demons tearing it down around their ears.

Blue turned out to be an absolute genius in her own right, reminding Claire of her mother's African grey, who sometimes seemed more like a human than most humans. Delta was the family ditz, Echo was the little trickster, and Charlie was, of course, their baby

But, technically, _legally_ , they weren't actually hers. Not her raptors, not her pack, and certainly not her daughters. They were InGen property, and as their primary caretaker she got a lot of leeway, but she didn't have absolute control. She managed to put it off to the day after Charlie's first birthday, so everyone hit a comparable guest birthday bash, but eventually her girls had to go into a paddock. Claire spent every night for three months sleeping in the paddock with them, then another three on the other side of the bars. She'd have stayed longer, except Hoskins showed up.

Good things first though.

For Blue's fifth month, Claire got a partner. Barry was a beautiful genius who was listed as "farm smart," which apparently meant he was basically a snake charmer but more generalized. She didn't know how farm smart translated to that, but every country had their own Talent Registry, and she wasn't going to figure them all out. She immediately put Echo in his care, because if she needed a hand with anyone, it was her wretched little prankster. After three days of concentrated interaction, Echo adored Barry, and he her.

The girls started calling Barry "Dad," which prompted a night of drunken confessions, in which she admitted she was more than just _good_ _with_ _animals_ , Barry admitted he made snake charmers look like cheap trick turners, so long as he had time to bond with his animal, and they made out on her couch while the girls watched Disney on the tv.

Before that though, Claire tried to date Owen Grady, hardass prince of the island.

In her defense, she didn't realize that "White Shores" was the name of the island's super fancy restaurant, she just knew it was by the aquarium, which was what she meant when she said yes when she asked if she knew it. She didn't eat at _any_ of the restaurants on the island, except sometimes the Cretacious Cabana, which wasn't _really_ a restaurant. She knew where it was! It counted! Or, well, it _should_ have.

She showed up in tattered jean shorts that were more brown than blue, a tanktop that used to be white maybe, the overshirt of her uniform because it was kind of cold out, flip-flops because she was off duty dammit--and, possibly most damning, with a messenger bag full of baby raptors over her shoulder.

Owen had looked like a million bucks in some fancy blue suit that made his eyes look _absurdly_ blue, and she knew they could have managed to have a good night, but Owen had an _itinerary_ and it all just sort of went downhill from there. They didn't even make it into the restaurant, Claire storming off with her shoes flip-flopping in outrage, and Owen stomping off to have himself a nice dinner without the crazy raptor lady. And that was, whatever. A lot of things went wrong all at once, and clearly it just wasn't meant to be.

After their drunken fun, she and Barry weren't really dating either, but they referred to the raptors as their kids, and were generally considered to be gross and adorable by everyone else, and it was really nice.

Enter You-Don't-Deserve-a-First-Name Hoskins, talented in "persistence," better known as being a stupid d-bag, the first person Claire had ever met who definitely deserved to get disemboweled by dinosaurs. She couldn't even hide from the girls that he was why she stopped sleeping near them; she couldn't handle waking up in the morning to his stupid face, not unless she got to punch him in the dick, which Barry had reluctantly advised against. She usually took Barry's advice on that sort of thing. He was better at... _people._

Because of stalker-Hoskins, they couldn't even get in the paddock anymore, and the girls hated it as much as they did. They were mostly adjusted to it, to their parents being physically distant, but there were some days when one or more of the girls just couldn't handle it. Usually it was sweet little Charlie, howling and sulking in turns. It never failed to set the other girls off, and they'd all be in a foul temper, snarling at everyone, and pleading with Claire and Barry until all they wanted was to jump in the pen and cuddle their girls. But they couldn't, all they could do was ride it out, whispering apologies and giving them all the treats and spending all day by them, and when Hoskins and his men weren't around, they would sneak down and put their hands through the bars, trying not to make promises they couldn't keep.

It really was all because of Hoskins, too. Most of the park wouldn't tell if they noticed she and Barry were a little better with their charges than they ought to be; half the handlers were a lot more talented than they admitted. Hell, even InGen would probably help keep their secret, as long as they stayed with the park. But Hoskins wasn't one of theirs. He was one of _them,_ everyone not theirs, everyone who was _the_ _enemy_.

So Blue was really very eager in her offer to kill him, or "just maim him, maybe bite off a leg," as one of the girls had suggested shortly after Claire started sleeping in her own trailer again. At least they kept up the show off being barely tolerant of her, the show they'd been putting on since Hoskins showed up, though Claire was cautious enough that they'd been practicing long before that. It used to be a game though, and now it was horribly serious.

If anyone noticed the discrepancy in relationships between raptors and handlers from one day to the next, Claire would claim it was because the girls hit puberty and weren't so sweet anymore.

Claire had to roll dramatically out of the cage because betty was a dick, the door clanging behind her and the girls hissing in both real upset and amusement. Mommy rolled in the _mud_.

Then she spent thirty minutes dressing down the idiot who fell in the pen because he couldn't handle feeding duty. She didn't care if he had rubber bones (which apparently he did, though his registration called it "high durability"); the raptors could make him very dead, and never mind that they'd been telling the truth when they said they'd only been playing with him. As far as the kid was concerned, as far as Hoskins was concerned, as far as _anyone_ other than her and Barry was concerned, the girls were sharks that lived on land, and climbed, and might just kill you for fun, and Claire was just one lucky bitch who they sorta-kinda liked.

Not that all her and Barry and the girls' efforts seemed to be working on _fucking_ _Hoskins_.

The next time she saw "persistence" on someone's registration, she was running the other direction. Or just shooting them and getting it over with. Fuck talent discrimination, persistence was _bullshit_.

Her phone buzzed against her hip, interrupting her dramatically languishing in bed. She groaned, just knowing it wasn't going to make her day any better. She answered anyway, grunting something like her name into the phone, because she was an adult dammit.

"You need to get down here," Owen Grady's annoyingly hot voice told her, his usual calm, in-control tone edged with urgency. "Bring Barry." Then he just hung up. Because that wasn't super ominous or anything.

She relayed the message to Barry, who voted in favor of obeying their boss, and Claire was curious, so off they went, following Owen's texted directions, including a detour through the labs.

She hadn't been to the incubation labs since Charlie hatched, unable to stomach the memory of that first clutch that never had a chance. Most of the fabricated dinosaurs survived their hatching day, and it was usually a pretty cute and cheerful place, despite her pack's disastrous beginnings. It still wasn't really a happy place for her. Her only happy hatching experience hadn't even been in the lab proper, thanks to the special private room she'd gotten the girls. Besides, no one wanted to risk some random baby imprinting on her.

Barry had never been there period, and she teased him the whole walk through, relaxed by how openly enthused he was by the eggs. A few of them wriggled a little, and he had to stop at each one. He stopped to watch the metal arms gently turning eggs, then checked out the equipment, and stood there watching the monitor of a stegosaurus egg that was one of the faintly twitching ones. He was adorable, and she told him so, which delighted him into ruffling her hair. They were in high spirits by the time they stepped into the back hallway, which they both had to swipe their cards to gain access to. They walked through the door, past it's big "RESTRICTED ACCESS" sign, and were greeted by Owen's grim face. Their good cheer instantly faded at his sombre aura, thick enough to clog the air.

"Miss Dearing, Doctor Chevalier," he greeted, overly formal. Owen considered them. "Which of you would you consider better suited to handle an injured animal, and which is better suited for an aggressive one? Or would you prefer to work as a team?" Well, that was Owen Grady; straight to business. She and Barry looked at each other with matching expressions of worry.

"Team," she said. Barry nodded.

"Until we know what we're up against," he agreed. "Take us to the injured one first."

Owen nodded. He led them to a room and, without fanfare, opened the door. It must have been sound-proofed; the second it was open, they were struck by a heartbreaking wail.

Claire and Barry ran, perfectly in sync, enough to get through the narrow doorway without incident, though they both stopped just inside.

In the room, chained to the wall like a rabid beast, was a scrawny little white creature that looked far too much like her girls as babies. Except she was _huge_ , the size of the raptors at two months but only at the development stage of two _days,_ at the most _._ She was bone white, and bleeding profusely from lacerations on her shoulder and thigh, and she didn't show any signs of stopping her screams any time soon.

It was pretty fucking stupid what Claire did next, but hey, she was good at stupid.

She slid behind the little one and dropped down to the floor, splaying her legs out on either side of the baby. She grabbed her, unhooked the chain, and dragged her into her lap. The little one screamed even louder, scared and hurting, but Claire wrapped her up in her warm arms and started crooning, the croon she called the "raptor lullaby." She used to have to croon to Blue every night, that first month when it was just the two of them, and it always helped the girls when they were upset. The baby stilled, then quieted, then she buried herself against Claire, drooping in relief at finally being _safe._ Claire exhaled softly, tucking her head down against the baby's. Thank _fuck._

Barry cussed at her colorfully for scaring him, but he helped remove the collar, since Claire's hands were occupied. He walked over to the door to tell Owen to get a vet, talking soft so the baby wouldn't hear the furious growl in his tone. Smart, considering Claire would _bite_ him if he got her worked up after she'd _just_ gotten her down.

The vets came in quick enough that they were definitely on standby, but they were quiet when they came in, fortunately. The baby barely stirred, except to snuggle a little more firmly into Claire.

"Okay, what happened?" Barry finally asked Owen, as they administered a sedative and anaesthetic, and started to stitch the baby up--although first they told Claire outright that they'd leave if she stopped holding her. Apparently they had seen her holding the baby and concluded she had some sort of calming talent. That was fine; she had no intention of putting this little one down any time soon. Although it made her want to kick them in the teeth.

After a moment, Owen told them about a secret project; the Indominus Rex, two sisters who would be as big as the t-rex, and would attract so many visitors they might have to buy a new island. Except the big sister tried to eat her little sister the day she hatched.

"Look at her, they'll be _bigger_ than Rexie," Barry snapped, still quiet, even though it was safe to be loudly angry now; the baby was fast asleep. "You might have to buy a new island just to _contain_ them. What were you thinking, Grady?" And then Claire learned the two of them were apparently friends, because Barry reached out and smacked Owen's head. Barry was casually tactile, but usually not to _that_ extent. "You're a genius, how could you be so stupid?"

"At business!" Owen protested, though he didn't protest the smack, just started fixing his hair. "I've got a business talent, not--" he waved at Claire and the baby. "Living things." He said it like _living_ _things_ were gross and scary, and it was a really shitty situation, but if it had been a little less shitty, Claire would have found him really cute right then. Judging by the way Barry deflated, he shared the sentiment.

"Alright, fine. Take us to the sister," Barry sighed, rubbing his temple. Owen nodded, clearly approving of them moving on.

"You'll have to chain her back up," he began. "They're not allowed to be loose unsupervised. Or at all, actually, but special circumstances..." he trailed off, as he noticed that she and Barry were both staring at him like he was a particularly stupid insect.

"She's coming with, Owen," Barry said, almost-patient. Not quite patient, but he was at least trying to work through his current annoyance. That was typical; the animal-talented always got fussy around hurt animals.

"Trust us," Claire chimed in, stroking the baby's spine absently. "It'll be _fine_." Owen glared at them, then he was silent for a few moments, looking for all the world like he was doing calculations. And hey, maybe he was. Who knew what it was like in the minds of the business talented?

"Okay," he said decisively. "But don't let her free, or I'll--" there was a brief hesitation as he tugged at the cuff of his sleeve in a subtle nervous tick--"dock your pay, or something."

"What, you won't fire us?" Claire challenged, practically automatic. Scooping the baby up, she stood, managing to get her head on her shoulder, supporting the rest of her with her arms. She was already big enough that the raptors' messenger bag would be a squeeze, but she didn't weigh too much, only about the size of a young toddler. Maybe. Claire wasn't really familiar with human children, although she was familiar with dinosaurs, and knew this baby was smaller thab a newly hatched t-rex. She agreed with Barry though; she might seem small, but she was going to be huge, judging by her proportions.

Owen snorted at her question, a surprising undignified sound that somehow both did and didn't suit him.

" _Please_ ," he drawled. "You've got six million dollars of rescued research in your arms, and, even if they're not officially an attraction, the raptors bring in valuable revenue; you'll be lucky if I let you retire." He waved the very idea off in a frankly terrifying fashion. "Come on."

Two doors down was a similar room, except this baby had two chains, and was a few days further along, which wasn't a lot but was apparently enough to make her freak out about her fragile new baby sister.

Barry growled something unsavory in French.

"Give me the little angel," he commanded. "You can handle _that_ one better than I, and a sleeping baby is no trouble."

"You'll have to explain your new hatchling to Echo," she managed to joke, even as her stomach tied itself in knots. She carefully transferred the sleeping baby into Barry's arms, arranging her to her exacting satisfaction. Her arms felt empty without the baby asleep in them, even as she enjoyed not having her arms full. A familiar conundrum, even if the girls had all been too big to carry for almost a year.

"Echo will be delighted you are fertile after all," Barry joked back, though his face was dark. They both exchanged a speaking glance; they were not pleased that this had been allowed to happen. But, it would have to wait. "Shoo, adopt our new girl. Owen, you stand over here with me."

He herded Owen into the corner closest to the door, then put himself between baby and businessman, pulling the little one in his arms a little higher up. He spoke in calm, clear words to the other baby. "This is our corner," he said. "Peaceful-ours. We are here. Our territory. You may have the rest. This is ours. You will not come here. This spot is not yours." Claire nodded at him in thanks; she didn't want to remove the hurt baby from the room just yet, but she didn't want the three of them endangered either. Barry took care of that without even needing to be asked. She had no doubt that he could defend one corner, especially when he made his "territory" smaller by leaning back into Owen's chest.

She couldn't resist taking just a second to look at them. Owen was surprisingly broader than Barry, and as Barry settled shamelessly against him, a touch of color came to Owen's cheeks. With her wounds ditched and cleaned, the baby just looked like she was tuckered out rather than sedated, a pale bundle of cute asleep in Barry's arms. Even with everything going on, it was a charming image. Fortifying too.

Claire set her shoulders. It was easier from the egg, but these babies hadn't imprinted on anyone, that much was obvious, and they were weeks away from being difficult for her to handle. She was Claire Dearing, dammit. The first one was already hers, now she only had to claim her sister. Barely even a challenge. Really.

She strode into the middle of the room, unflinching at the baby's snarls, as wordless as her sister's screams had been, but without even the attempt of words she seemed like she should be making, even if she _was_ a baby. Just within reach, Claire lunged before the baby could, shoving her head down--and down, and down. She followed her to the floor, winning the contest of strength easily; the little hybrid was both young and surprised.

She fished a piece of jerky out of her pocket, but put it in her own mouth instead of the baby's; it was far too tough for a baby, no matter how sharp her teeth.

"Hush now, little star." She crooned the raptor lullaby again around the jerky, arms wrapped around the little head, holding her in place. The baby was frozen, listening to Claire croon and processing the hug without any frame of reference for either. She carefully undid the chains and collar, pushing all of them aside, careful not to make any jarring noises, though the little one noticed anyway.

When the baby jumped up, Claire let her go, watching with enforced calm as she continued to chew the jerky. She was in control. She was safe. Everything was fine. She couldn't convince anyone of their safety unless she believed in her own safety, so she believed.

The baby screeched in rage, and Claire silently thanked good fortune that the little sister was still out of it. She attacked the pile, savaging the collar, kicking at the chains in vengeance as she tried to destroy the collar with her teeth. Claire let her get it out of her system, then spat the chewed jerky into her hand. She whistled once, getting the baby's attention. The baby peered at her, wobbling a little in place, no longer held up by her fury. She sniffed in Claire's direction wary curiosity creeping in.

"Come on then, starlight," Claire beckoned. "I bet you wouldn't mind a snack." Holding out the chewed up meat, Claire lured the baby over, drawing her into her lap, feeding her little bits of jerky unprompted. Food-based training could wait until they'd established that food was guaranteed and not something that needed to be fought for. The baby curled up in her lap once the jerky was gone. She snuggled in close, and sighed in contentment as Claire began to pet her, going right fit for the doors the girls liked best.

"Wow," Owen breathed, reminding her that she add the baby weren't actually the only ones in the room. Triumph flared in her, sudden and bright. Claire knew she'd really won when the baby only looked curiously towards own, fear forgotten, completely confident in the safety of Claire's lap.

Claire grinned. "Barry, could you go get my sister? Tell her to make my baby gruel, and get two of those--turkey baster things? We'll feed them together." Barry nodded, understanding immediately. Thank fuck for Barry. He didn't even need that much instruction; he would know how much to bring as soon as he got the recipe from Sophie, and he knew all about baby-appropriate food temperatures and such.

"Owen, put your jacket over _mon petit ange_ ," he said, finally letting Owen out of the corner as he stepped towards the door. "She'll get cold in the labs." To his credit, Owen only hesitated a moment before complying, even though it was probably a very expensive jacket. "You will explain what happened with our girls to our poor friend, Claire?" She nodded, amused that Owen had already earned friend status again, and was apparently now her friend as well. Barry departed hastily with his hidden baby to get the food, sharing her need to get a proper meal in both babies. Who even knew what these weirdo scientists had been feeding them.

"So," Owen began, watching her with an odd expression on his face. It kind of looked like awe. "What went wrong?"

"Basically everything," she answered immediately, which seemed to catch him off guard. The look on his face was pretty satisfying. "But I'll compile a comprehensive list with Barry later. To summarize--I'm guessing this one hatched a little sooner than her sister, right?" She laid a hand on the baby's neck, scritching the ridge of it. She made a happy little _churr_ noise, stretching into the petting a little

Owen nodded. "She hatched seventy six hours ago." He checked his watch and corrected, "Seventy seven. The second hatched four hours ago." Claire took a moment to process the bizarre creature that was Owen Grady. Not for the first time, she considered the possibility that he was a robot. She dismissed the idea; no way robots had that much attitude.

"And no one touched her, right?" It was a rhetorical question, after the way both babies had reacted to being held. "Baby predatory dinosaurs need _immediate_ cuddles," she told him, ignoring his judgey eyebrows. She raised a pack of velociraptors, she was literally the only expert on successful raptor rearing in the world. Plenty of "how not to do it" people, but no one else like her, not even Barry, though he could probably manage it too. She was the only authority here and he had no right to judge her methods. They fucking worked. Cuddles were the secret to the universe.

"She was scared and confused and alone, and then suddenly there was a weird _thing_ with her," she continued. "Angel's a little smaller, and I think she's a little sick. Just normal baby stuff probably, but maybe there's something wrong with her." Her eyes looked a little albino pink, but she didn't want to say it and spook Owen; she never knew how normal people would react to the word, and she didn't want to be asked for predictions she was in no position to make. As far as she knew, Angel could be the only albino almost-dinosaur in existence. "Either way, Star just reacted on instinct. She doesn't know that Angel's her sister. She was just meat to her at that point. To us it's cannibalism, but Star doesn't know what she is, let alone that Angel is that too." Apparently they had names now too. "So, Barry and I are going to introduce them properly, make sure they know they're _both_ valuable members of the family, then we'll get a strong start on socialization and introduce them to the rest of our the girls, head off Star's issues at the pass with their healthy example."

Owen's eyebrows practically touched his hairline at that. "I thought the raptors were a failure. Borderline feral," he drawled. He leaned against the wall, looking suddenly very amused. Oops. Well, in for a penny.

"Fuck Hoskins, seriously," she told him cheerfully. "If you don't get him away from my girls in the next twelve hours, I'm letting them take his leg off. He's fucked up our research beyond compare, not to mention how much stress he gave us. And if he comes back, I'll rip off his leg myself." God damn but she would. She and the pack could handle Hoskins before, in a way it might even have been a good test of sorts, but Star and Angel were too young for that. Forget the leg, Claire would claw his fucking eyes out. And then shoot him.

Owen stared at her. He calculated again, and Claire had the unnerving sense that Owen's calculating expression was one she should fear. It was _hot_ though; it was really messing with her already shitty self preservation instinct, which wasn't cool. She had _volunteered_ for full-time _velociraptor_ duty, she clearly needed whatever little bit of that instinct she had.

"Fair enough," he decided. "But you're now heading the Indominus Rex project, and if they're pack I assume they'll share a paddock, so the raptors are becoming part of the I-rex exhibit site. No more hiding from the public." He smirked at her, like a cat who'd cornered its prey.

Claire stared at him. Fuck. Was this what a fear boner felt like? She thought it might be.

"Fine, but no hoops. I refuse to run a circus show," she declared. Internally she had the poorly timed realization that she was _very much not_ business talented. Owen grinned, reminding her of the girls with rubber bones kid.

"Oh please, do give me credit, Miss Dearing," he drawled, pulling out his phone, already tapping on it without taking his eyes off her. "You're a far better investment than a circus."

Claire went back to cuddling her new baby raptor. It was much safer.

Sophie and Barry returned in short order, with fresh gruel and "they're scientific feeding implements"/turkey basters. As Sophie cooed from a safe distance by Owen, she and Barry squished close together and fed Star and Angel, who was already waking up. Claire mentally noted "quick metabolism" with a faint note of dread. That was quick in comparison to the _raptors_. They were _definitely_ going to need a feeding schedule.

They introduced Star to the concept of sharing, which she was surprising amenable to, though she grumbled when Claire decided to exchange babies. Angel squeaked in glee to be back in her arms, and Claire peppered her with kisses before continuing the feeding, stealing a glance at Barry as he charmed Star with his own little raptor croon. Plus, food. Baby predators did kind of have one, ultimate weakness, fortunately for them all. They didn't notice Owen casually recording the I-rexes first proper feeding, though they definitely noticed when he used it for publicity.

Blue and pack loved their new little sisters. As predicted, they were very happy to learn of their parents' fertility, and even more excited when they eventually got moved into an _enormous_ new pen. All six of the girls took to showbiz like fish to water, in their own ways, even if for Echo and Angel that was "blatant ambush of unsuspecting people," and there were way too many videos of Charlie and Delta being goofy, and dammit, Blue taught Star to just stand around looking regal, which might impress the tourists but it was _completely_ ridiculous and they were a constant embarrassment to Claire. No, for real this time.

The girls eventually started calling Owen Dad-also, which Claire translated to Papa, which she used to get Owen to blush on live tv. There were no hoops, and Claire kind of enjoyed designing their first "show," which was really just playing around with an audience (well, enjoyed when she wasn't freaking the hell out about it, but her boyfriends helped with that.) Barry wound up with his own mini show with just him and Echo, who remained his special girl, in which they did a bunch of silly stuff with Barry blindfolded, and all the girls got action figures and plush toys. They were a hit with just about everyone, the new stars of the park, although no one was jumping to get their own raptors, especially after some teens got into the paddock (teens; magical, idiotic, mischief machines) and the girls gave them the fright of their lives before Claire and Barry saved them.

And Hoskins never went near any of them ever again. There was a rumor he left in tears. Oh yeah. Claire totally dressed up for their second dinner. That one went a lot better than the first. A _lot._

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da! That is, tragically, not all; I've got some random snippets, and I'll probably have more, but that's what I've got for now. All typed up on a fucking Kindle.
> 
> Okay, that's a lie. I technically have a couple partial drabbles typed up. But this is all I have complete enough to warrant posting.
> 
> I'll also probably make some graphics for this at some point but I'm 1000% too lazy right now. The internet on my computer only works for like, five seconds, and I can't post on the kindle because it doesn't copy my "rich text" because fuck me, that's why. This shit looks fucking fancy in my word doc, but you'll just have to take my word for it. Any mistakes I honestly don't care about. Like spelling Grady as Gradey. Am I going to fix that? Not right fucking now.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm very sad not to have a scene in which Claire points out Owen's not dressed for the jungle, and he huffily rolls up his sleeves, and she just looks at his shoes like _u r going to get eaten friend but at least u r cute. Smol busy bee._


End file.
